The Chase
by Chrome-Explorer
Summary: Set five years after 'Such a thing'. Talia has gone out into the world in search of Bane. But who will find her first? Rated T for naughty language.
1. Chapter 1

"People who are trying to blend in usually _look_ like they're trying to blend in. Look for a person who looks like they don't give a fuck"

What was _that_ supposed to mean? Whyles knelt down on the gravelled roof and flicked through the folder again. Girl pumping gas, girl crossing street, girl posed on rock somewhere up a mountain... That last one was a few years old they had been told. 'Talia al Ghul, what have you done?' he wondered. He stood and resumed his crowd scanning. People walked leisurely down the long main street - some fast, some slow, some group of students loitering at the base of a statue. They had received this job several months ago and finally tracked her down - well, to the city at least.

"Everyone always thinks to look for the guy with the hood over his head" continued Grey, "When it's the lady pushing the pram that's out to get you. This one's a fighter... A wanderer... What would someone like that look like if they were trying to be like everyone else".

Grey was the head of this particular branch of mercenaries. Grey had seen it all, and had been shot and stabbed a few times in the process. Whyles was his number three. His number two was Grounds, named affectionately after his love of being the first one in on the ground, where the action was.

Whyles continued to scan, trying not to look for someone who was obviously trying to not stand out, but for somebody who did stand out, but because they were standing out you wouldn't notice them... What? 'Man, this shit gives me a headache', he thought to himself.

"There..." Grey drawled, "...passing the tree. Carrying a black backpack slung over one shoulder (easier to drop it then if someone grabbed it), red dress over black tights (looked fashionable but was practical, you could fight without restriction in an outfit like that). She's wearing boots, brown leather. They look well worn. And a rain jacket, blue and white, wind-proof (boots and a jacket for all terrain and all weathers)". Whyles found the girl in his lenses. She looked like any other student walking down the street.

"That's her", Grey was definite.  
"How can you tell?"  
"Look at the way she's holding that coffee..."

Her right hand was palm up, coffee cup sitting tall in it, her fingers bent like a dead spiders legs, supporting the cup. Not a particularly secure way to carry a hot drink...

"...She's holding it like she's ready to smash someone in the face with it".

They kept their binoculars on her while Grey radioed the team "Petite girl, dark hair, on the...north... side of the street. Wearing a red dress and white and blue rain jacket. Passing the bagel place...now".

One of his men appeared around the corner ahead of her and walked towards her with his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets. As he walked past he took a quick glance at her face and looked up to the rooftop and gave a slight nod - it was her.

Grey laughed "Shit, she's good".

Whyles had watched her as their guy had walked past - she had slowed down and glanced over her shoulder at him. As they got the nod, she had looked up and made a glancing scan of the rooftops. She was walking faster now, towards a store."Shit, she knows... She's onto us".

"Move in.." barked Grey down the radio, "And for God sake don't make a scene".

She turned into the door of a department store and bee-lined for the womens department. Four of the men followed her, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

"Excuse me, miss"

She turned abruptly to face a store security guard, good thing she thought fast, he nearly got a scalding coffee to the face.

"Miss, we ask customers not to bring food or drinks into the clothing department".  
"Oh my goodness", Talia smiled politely, "I'm so sorry, is there a bathroom nearby, I'm actually finished, I was looking for a sink to tip the rest down",  
"Yes Miss, I'll show you where it is".

Grounds watched from across the department floor as the security guard chatted and walked with her. "Ugh... She's talking with a store cop", he reported into the tiny mic in his lapel. "Keep an eye on her, don't let her get away" said his earpiece. They watched as she smiled and nodded to the guard, and disappeared into the ladies room.

Inside, she found the restroom was empty. Four sinks to the left. Twelve cubicles on each side. No windows - shit! But a panelled ceiling. She dumped the coffee cup into the first sink and dashed to the farthest cubicle, sliding the tiny lock closed. Stepping quickly onto the toilet seat she hoisted herself onto the thin cubicle wall. It wobbled under her weight, causing the doors of the adjoining cubicles to shudder. With a hand and one knee balancing her, she reached up and pushed the panel closest to the solid wall of the room up and to the side. She pushed her backpack up first, then dragged herself up on top of the brick wall. There wasn't much space. She had to maneuver on her belly and slide the ceiling tile back in place. Talia scanned around the space. It was barely 18inches high and there was random piping and cabling arranged between the ceiling tiles below and the concrete roof above. An air vent (oh she did love a good cliche) was at the end of the wall, back towards the main door. She leopard-crawled along the dust covered ledge, pushing her bag in front of her- if she leaned on the ceiling panels she would fall through, back into the bathroom.

Grounds left the others and walked purposely to the ladies room door, paused and pushed the door open.

"Excuse me sir!", damn security guard, "That's the ladies room?!".  
"Oh, sorry. I'm actually looking for my girlfriend. Dark hair, red dress?"  
"Oh yeah, I think she went in there, but sir you have to wait outside"

The security guard gave him an 'arched eyebrow of seriousness' look and waited until Grounds had gone over to stand by a nearby pillar. Grounds raised his hand to scratch his hair "Someone distract that goddamn guard" he whispered to his mic. From the far side of the store there was a crash. The security guard whipped his head around to the sound, "Those damn kids messing with the mannequins again" and he jogged off to where Grounds' men had tipped over a display.

Grounds made a dash for the ladies room door, slamming into the bathroom. Silence. He saw her coffee cup, drizzling the last of the coffee down the plug hole. He took two silent steps forward and saw the locked cubicle door. "Get in here..." he micced. If he was going to get his face kicked in he wanted back-up. Within seconds the other three came sliding through the main door, the last man placed a 'cleaning in progress' sign on the handle. They silently gestured to each other, 'two on this side, two on that side'. They stalked down to the closed door. They had no weapons - under strict instruction of the client, "She'll just use them against you". Grounds bent to look under - no feet. He mouthed 'one, two, three.." and a swift kick with his foot sent the door banging open. Empty. "DAMMIT!" They huffed an annoyed sigh of relief and disappointment.

She had squirmed through the air vent, wryly remembering that bit in Shawshank Redemption, and was now over the shop floor. Shove the bag, crawl some more. 'These guys better be worth all this' she thought. Shove the bag, crawl some more. Shove the bag, crawl some more. Shove the... NO! The backpack tumbled off the top of the wall onto the foam tiles, and straight through, landing on the aisle of the fashion section. People in the store screeched with surprise and looked up in disbelief as a grime covered girl followed. Grounds and his men had been sneaking out of the ladies and heard the commotion. They saw her. She ran.

Talia was fast, and faster than them. Random people tried in vain to stop her (there's only one reason anyone sprints through a shopping department) but she brushed them off easily, security guards included. She bolted out of the clothing section into the atrium of the department store... 'Foodhall, shoe store, CAR PARK!'. Crashing bodily through the heavy wooden exit, she hit some poor bastard with the door. He'd live... she might not if she stopped. Down a concrete corridor her heart and feet pounded. They were behind her, and not far, by the sounds of the poor bastard yelling at someone for hitting him again. She could see a girl out in the carpark struggling with shopping bags while fumbling with car keys, paid parking ticket between her lips. 'Perfect! Rob girl. Take car. Home free'. She grit her teeth and sprinted to the end of the corridor. She grabbed the girl and roughly shoved her against the wall "Give me your keys... and the ticket", the girl complied numbly and slid down the wall when released. 'A bad day for her, but it'll be a worse one for me'. She jogged into the huge parking area. Concrete and low ceilinged. She pressed the fob on the car-key '_boop boop_'. Somewhere over to the right. She pressed it again as she walked, '_boop boop_', she spotted the flashing lights of the car and ran to it. She loaded herself into the driver seat and wasted no time reversing out and charging for the exit. She reached the exit machines, rolled down the window, shoved in the ticket and waited for the barrier to lift. Success! She would make it. She started to roll down the exit ramp towards daylight. But they were waiting for her.

A massive, shiny black van with eight men standing either side of its open sliding door. The exit was completely blocked. Cars honked angrily outside at the blockage. She recognised Grounds and the three men from inside. They were all out of breath. A tall, stocky older man stepped forward. "Talia al Ghul... Get in the van".

She was stuck. These guys were good. No weapons though, so they wanted her alive? They looked like hired men - someone had sent them to retrieve her. She eyed each one of them, 'I'll be remembering you...' she thought threateningly. Live now, fight later. She stepped up into the back of the van, ducking her head and sat on one of the benches that ran either side of the interior. The eight men piled in after her and sat around her. The door slid shut and they drove away, leaving that other poor girls car with it's door open and engine running.

Talia scanned the faces of the men, no-one looked back at her. "I got new jeans", she chatted casually. No response. "I don't know if I'll keep them though, I don't have anything to go with them". No response. Her eyes landed on the youngest looking man, down the very end. "I bet you look good in jeans", she flirted. The young man blushed and looked away. Hmmm, no-one telling her to shut-up. No backhand across the face to silence her. These men had been told to bring her in, unharmed. Who would send mercs? It wasn't the Leagues style. That young guy was obviously not as well-trained as the others.

Within a few short minutes the van was driven down into a basement car park. There weren't many cars, but the ones that were there were expensive, some foreign. 'Hotel?' she thought. They pulled the van up to an elevator and the men again formed their lines so she would walk from van to elevator door without a gap for escape. The nine of them entered the lift, Talia in the centre, and Grey pushed the top button. The elevator rose and whirred and clicked. She scanned around - the roof hatch had been welded shut. The elevator reached it's floor and the door pinged as it opened. Grey stepped aside, "This is your stop". He stepped aside to let her pass. Casting her catchers a farewell smirk, she stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway. The wall lights had been removed and there were patches of fresh plaster where they had been. She remembered fondly the time she had torn a sconce off a wall and beaten some jerk to death with it... Obviously theses guys had thought of that too. Hence the 'no lights', and the electric cables being plastered over.

The elevator doors slid shut and the men were gone. Jackasses. She scanned around again for a way out - nothing. And nothing to use as a weapon. The door at the end of the hall was elegant, dark wood with a brass handle. She leaned her head against the door and listened. Silence. She curled her hand around the door knob and gently turned, letting the door swing open.

The room was huge. A penthouse, overlooking the city with huge safety-glass windows. Double-doors to the right went into another room. Cream couches sat on cream carpets that ran into cream walls. A dark wood coffee table sat between the two couches. Matching side tables held white and gold lamps by each end of the couches, and a sideboard against the wall presented white lilies in a glass vase.

'What the hell is going on?' She was actually just getting annoyed at this point. Someone obviously wanted to play games and she was not the entertaining type. She walked past the couches to the window - no ledge to climb out on. The windows don't even open. She sighed an exasperated breath and folded her arms. The air in the penthouse was fresh, but not cold, and had a certain charge to it. Like static, but somehow familiar. The handle of the double doors clicked and the door swept over the carpet as it opened. She turned to face her host.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. She could only see.

He stood in black combat pants and a tight, black, long-sleeved top with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, hands in his pockets. His stance seemed relaxed, but then, he had known he would be seeing her today. It had been four - no, five - years since they had last seen each other. Five years already? Neither moved, feeling like the first one to move would cause everything to vanish.

"You've grown", he spoke flatly.

"So have you", she sent back. Her voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere outside her body.

"How are you?"

"I'm not sure... You left"

"I came back for you. They said _you_ had left"

"I went to look for you"

"Well, you found me"

"You found _me_, Bane"


	2. Chapter 2

"Nice place", she quipped, rolling her eyes around the room. It was not his style.

"A friend gave it to me...", he took a step towards her, "He's dead now".

She snorted a small laugh at how normal it was to have dead people involved in their lives.

As he stepped around the back of one couch, she stepped around the back of the other. The pair circumnavigated the room, stalking each other as if they were about to fight.

"Who were _they_?", she gestured to the door.

"Mercenaries. Nobodies"

"You couldn't have come for me yourself?"

"In this busy place? With this face?... You know the League are following you."

"They're always following me". It was true. They had followed her from the moment she left the temple. There was no escaping from her father - she knew that.

The stalking had continued as they talked, and now he was at the window and she was at the door. 'Will she leave?' he thought. He had not given much thought to how their reunion would go but he had not thought it would be like this. He had put security measures in place to minimise the damage she could do to the mercs - it had been part of the deal. He knew she would fight them, he hadn't considered that she might fight him.

"Are you afraid of me?", he asked in disbelief.

She didn't know how to answer that. Five years she had been searching, with nothing but the thought of finding him. Always moving. Always calculating. She had courted the shadows and dodged danger. Always in the pursuit of him. But she had not considered what she would do when she actually found him.

"No... I just..." A thousand thoughts flooded forward. 'Say something! Tell him everything - no, that can wait. Yell at him. Hit him. GOD, I WANT TO HIT HIM!...'

"I just never thought I'd actually find you".

And there it was - that look. He knew that look. It came from the Pits. It was the look she gave him as a child when the noise was too loud or the fight was too close. 'I don't know what to do', it said. 'Be strong for me', it said.

He crossed between the couches. He never took his eyes off hers (he still thought she might make a run for it) and he came to tower over her.

He ran his hands down her hips, around the back of her thighs, and lifted her with one easy movement. He had picked her up like this a thousand times before and she naturally slid her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. The familiar embrace calmed her mind and the tension in the room disappeared. Her eyes softened and she smiled that little smile that she always gave him, as he carried her bed.

They were lovers. Nothing had changed.


	3. Chapter 3

He carried her through the dining room, past the kitchen, to the bedroom. Their eyes never left each other and her smile never faded. He reversed onto the bed and her knees sank into the duvet on either side of him. Bane held her hips as Talia stretched to the night stand, she could _just_ reach the small silver case. A bottle of liquid Venom and a glass syringe. As she measured the clear fluid he rolled up his sleeve and pumped his hand to raise a vein. She tapped out the bubbles and smoothly pierced his skin with the needle.

The Venom flooded his mind. He lay back on the bed and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes - the hit always made him feel nauseous and dizzy. She climbed out of his lap and onto the floor to remove his boots and socks. She pulled off her own boots and tights and gently lay next to him on the bed. Patiently waiting for the wave to pass.

Deep inhale, deep exhale. He kept his eyes tightly shut as he reached for the latch on his mask. First unclipping the front - it opened like a door into the fresh air, and then the whole piece came off over his head. He dropped the mask heavily on the floor. Deep inhale, deep exhale. His eyes fluttered open and he turned his head to face her.

His face was not as damaged as everyone imagined. Straight white lines radiated from his lips down his chin, up to his nose and reached randomly up his cheeks. The League doctors had cut away the weeping, infected Pit wounds and re-stitched his face. His nose had been broken and set crooked and then re-broken and set straight, but there was a little bump. Several of his teeth had been veneered to replace those that had been shattered. It didn't matter though, she never saw the scars. Whenever she looked at him he was still the young, handsome face from the Pit. Maybe that was why she was never afraid of him. No-one else knew him before he put on the mask. Before he became a monster.

He rolled on-top of her and rested an elbow each side of her head. Their eyes searched for a moment and then their lips found each other. They kissed softly and slowly because they had all the time in the world and she had missed his kisses. He slid one hand under her back as the other became lost in her hair. She ran her hands up the back of his shirt and gripped the hard muscles underneath. He ground against her and she moaned against his mouth.

They never were very good at keeping control.

-

The next morning they lay wrapped in each others arms. They had both woken early because, in their haste, they had forgotten to draw the curtains. The soft morning light glowed in the room and they lay happily half-asleep.

In another life he would have been a scholar. To learn, to know, would have been his life's mission. Not shadows, not the darkness. She didn't know what she would have been. She would have been with him though. Living somewhere green, isolated from the outside world - just the two of them. The way it had been in the beginning. But their lives were not meant for that, they were meant for servitude. They belonged to the world that exists, unseen, alongside our own. Known only by those who _do_ know, which is few.

At times she missed the Pit - what a funny thing to do. Her memories were mostly the sound and the smell, she had been so young. He had lived with it longer and it was much more real to him. He had been old enough to understand and had fought hard every day for them. To her it was all a hazy dream of a world where only they existed, to him it was scarred skin and clinging tightly together behind a locked door.

There are many types of love - theirs was the all consuming type. The couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't exist without you type. Some would have called it obsession - but they called it love.


End file.
